Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,59

by indulging her with a fine wardrobe and a talented maid to dress her unruly hair.

Still, she felt awkward—even humiliated. Either Forrester or Annie—both of whom she had come to love—must have written about her to their sisters. And what they’d written could not have been flattering.

“That’s a positively wretched thing to say about our brother,” Annie scolded her younger sister. “We hardly know what kinds of women he’s been attracted to since he’s never before deigned to bestow his affections on one. I’m exceedingly proud of the choice he’s made in Miss Pankhurst.”

“But what about Mrs. . .” Abby began but was cut off by a vicious glare from her eldest sister.

“And how, Miss Pankhurst, did you come by the name Dot?” Agnes asked in a smooth attempt to divert attention from the taboo subject of Forrester’s mistress.

Dot could see that the gracious Agnes was like Annie in every way. “It’s actually a shortened form of my given name, Dorothea.” Even her voice trembled. She found herself wanting to cry and desperately trying not to.

“I should have known.” Agnes directed a warm smile on Dot.

“Did you bring your cats today?” Abby asked. “How fortunate you are to possess several.”

More crimson rose to Dot’s face. Had everyone in Bath found her to be a laughing stock? Had Forrester or Annie written with amusement about the crazed newcomer who paraded about the city with her coddled felines?

Now that he had united himself with Dot, did her humiliation extend to Forrester?

How she wished she’d never come here today, never subjected herself to such continued humiliation. If she had never come to Bath, never met Forrester, never strung up herself for ridicule and heartache, she wouldn’t be suffering as she was now. Her life had been so much simpler, so much more comforting back at Blandings.

She couldn’t be angry with Forrester’s youngest sister. She was only voicing what she’d heard about Dot.

All Dot could think of was her powerful desire to race home and weep, away from these pitying glances. She could only barely manage to respond to Abby. “My cats are at home, but you’re welcome to come and meet them. I have four.”

Abby’s youthful face brightened. “That would be delightful.”

“My sisters will come to know you and adore you as much as I,” Annie said to Dot.

“Thank you.” Dot got to her feet. “I must be going now, but before I do I should like to invite everyone in this chamber to come to our house on Friday night for the salon to feature our two scholars, Jonathan Blankenship and Melvin Steffington.”

Annie stood also and turned to the hostess. “I must go as well. I particularly need to speak with Dot, but my sisters will stay.” She glared at her youngest sister.

Dot had not wanted to be with anyone, but the last thing she wanted was to make a scene, especially after reminding everyone of how unfit she was to be in their society. She was even more unfit to be Viscountess Appleton.

Outside, Annie fell into step beside Dot, who was speeding along at a brisk pace. “I must apologize for Abigail. We cannot blame her thoughtless tongue on her youth. She’s always been thoughtless and always a source of consternation to our family. I daresay ten years hence we’ll still be apologizing to those whom she’s not already alienated. I cannot tell you how unimaginably improper it was for her to allude to Timothy’s mistress in such a setting. The girl wants for a brain.”

It was impossible for Dot to withhold her tears any longer. She made not a whimper as they slid down her cheeks.

“Oh, Dot, dearest, dearest Dot. I am so sorry for Abby’s foolish words.”

“I have been the object of ridicule, have I not?”

Annie did not respond.

Her silence hurt more than confirmation. For Annie was too much like Forrester. She could not lie.

Now Dot wept in earnest as she angrily strode toward the Circus, nearly blinded by the onslaught of her own tears.

“I am so sorry. It was just that you were different. But once we came to know you, we both came to care deeply for you.”

Dot stopped, swiped away her tears, and faced Annie. “He knew about my dowry, did he not?”

Annie shrugged. “How am I to know what knowledge my brother possessed?”

Again, Annie could not tell an outright lie.

But she had unmistakably answered Dot’s question.

Chapter 16

Though his sisters seldom came into Appleton’s domain—the wood-paneled library at the rear of the townhouse’s ground floor—Annie awaited